What's in a Name?
by FemmeAuteur
Summary: A fanfic based on the Paxi series Young Blades. Jacqueline wants to know D'Artagnan's name.
1. Chapter 1

_**What's in a Name?**_

_Chapter 1_

"Will you hurry up? We were supposed to leave about 10 minutes ago," D'Artagnan told Jacqueline.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting there," growled Jacqueline, as she worked to tighten the cinch on her saddle. The last thing she felt like doing was climbing up on a horse in the wee hours of night. Even the moon seemed to be sleeping already. Finishing, she closed her eyes and started tapping her head against the saddle, "I don't want go on patrol. I don't want to go on patrol. I don't want to…."

"You know…if you wouldn't have stayed so late at the Café last night, you wouldn't have had such a time waking up. I told you we had patrol tonight," he stated, leading his horse out of the stable.

Jacqueline, following his lead, did the same. "You didn't seem in that much of a hurry to leave either."

"But it's not me having trouble getting going," he started.

"But it's not me that's used to late nights," she complained, climbing into the saddle. "I'd rather not argue about this, if you don't mind."

Smiling, he replied, "As you wish. But I just want you to know…..it's intriguing when you growl at me."

"Oh lord! Can you never stop?" she said, feeling like taking the reins she held and using them to tie him to the nearest post. As they started the ride out of Paris, her mind was busy imagining him tied to the post, totally at her mercy. Before she knew it, they'd been riding for nearly a half hour, during which time she'd fantasized doing everything from bopping him on the head to tickling him until he couldn't talk to kissing him. She realized that that last thought had somehow just crept into her mind without her realizing it. Shaking her head, she tried to think of anything else but that.

Her companion, feeling it was best to let sleeping bears lie, allowed his own thoughts to fall back on the night before. It was Rhapsody Night and Ramon had outdone himself with his verses. The Café was already packed when he and Jacqueline had gotten there. Luckily Siroc had saved a table for the four of them. They sat down, ordered drinks, and listened to their friend. Ramon spoke of romance, but not in his usual serious way, but in a much more comical tone, touching on the lighter aspects of love and life. When he finished he joined his friends and they toasted the joy of the night. What D'Artagnan remembered most about the entire night was the laughter and jokes they made to each other. He remembered hearing Jacqueline's laugh, at first in the deeper voice she used in her disguise, but at times as she relaxed, in more of a natural tone. He found himself trying to make her laugh just so he could listen to it. The odd looks of his other companions didn't concern him. All he heard was Jacqueline allowing her inner self to come out, even if just for a short time.

D'Artagnan left earlier than Jacqueline did. It wasn't that he didn't want to stay; he just knew that if he did he couldn't be sure if he could control the emotions he felt rising up inside him. It was seldom that she allowed herself to be so free with her voice, and especially with her laughter. Perhaps it was the drinks that made her open up more, or else it was because their friendship had allowed them to grow closer so she felt more secure. The reason didn't really matter, it was just the fact that it had happened.

"D'Artagnan," Jacqueline said for the second time.

He was brought out of his thoughts at the sound of his name. "Hmm?" Looking over, he saw that she was watching him. Hopefully he hadn't spoken out loud anything he was thinking.

"Why does everyone always call you D'Artagnan?" she asked. She had often wondered about this, but never had the nerve to ask him before. Maybe she was still suffering from the effects of the drinks. But whether she was or not, she had finally asked and was anxious to hear the answer.

Confused by this question, he shifted himself in his saddle. What sort of question was that? "Well, that _is _my name, you know," he said, trying to figure out if she was having some sort of a momentary lapse of sanity as she sat on her horse staring at him.

"Yes, I know. But it just seems odd that no one, including Duval, ever calls you by your first name," she continued.

"Ahh." So that was it. She was fishing for personal information. He found himself amused at the thought. Of all the things she could ask him, this was one thing he had never contemplated.

Jacqueline was anxiously awaiting his answer. Finally she would know. After a couple of minutes, she could stand the suspense no longer. "Well?"

"Well what?"

No, she thought. Could he be so cruel by not answering? "Surely you have a first name," she said.

"Of course. Doesn't everyone?" he said, grinning. This could be fun, he thought.

No, no, no! Why does he do this to her? It was a simple question yet he was going to torture her. "Well, aren't you going to tell me what it is?" she asked, the frustration showing in her voice.

Fun indeed, he thought. "Perhaps," he answered, enjoying the look on her face.

"Perhaps?" The frustration now getting to her. Why couldn't he just answer her? But he wasn't going to, was he? He just sits there on his horse, that smug look on his face. When she couldn't stand it any longer, she said, "You're not going to tell me, are you!"

D'Artagnan was quite enjoying himself. Perhaps this could work to his advantage. With a gleam in his eyes, he looked into hers and replied, "Tell you what. I will tell you on our wedding day." There, he'd said it. Now it was up to her.

Jacqueline, thinking she should have seen this coming, was surprised to hear herself say, "What if I beg really nicely?" Beg? she thought. Would she actually resort to begging?

D'Artagnan replied very casually, too late to let it drop now, "Nope. You heard me. When you finally decide to share your life with me, then I'll tell you anything you want to know." Now he just had to wait to see how far she'd carry it. Then a thought occurred to him as he nudged his horse to a trot. "Just promise me you won't name our son after me." He rode on ahead, afraid to see her reaction.


	2. Chapter 2

_**What's in a Name?**_

_Chapter 2_

Jacqueline sat there stunned as her horse continued its walk down the road. 'Just promise me you won't name our son…' Our son. Our son? What does this guy do, spend all his nights planning our life together? Hasn't he anything better to do? Coming out of her daze, she looked up the road. How long had she been sitting here thinking? Looking as far as she could ahead of her, she couldn't see him anymore in the darkness. Oh great, she thought. He did this on purpose. Anything to change the subject. Well, it was not going to work!

Kicking her heels into the horse's sides, she galloped after him. He can't be that far ahead of her. Their route didn't take them off this road for a couple miles yet. But how could she get him to tell her? Just asking him clearly didn't work. Maybe she could find a way to trick it out of him. If she could find him, that is.

About a minute later she finally saw him. As she rode up on him, she yelled, "D'Artagnan! Wait!"

Hearing her, he slowed his horse back to a walk, allowing her to catch up with him. "I already told you…."

"But that's not fair. You already know everything about me."

Raising his eyebrows but refusing to look at her, he answered, "I'd like to think that I don't know ALL your secrets yet…."

Ignoring this, she continued, "And you're avoiding the question."

"Question? What question? I don't remember any question." Patting his horse on the neck and acting as though he was speaking to it, he asked, "Do you remember a question?" Looking over at Jacqueline he said, matter-of-factly, "Nope, we don't remember any question."

"Alright! But I don't see what the big deal about it is. I mean, it's just your name. It's not like I'm asking you to tell me some deep, dark family secret or anything," she said.

"Now a deep, dark family secret I could probably be enticed to tell you," he answered.

Frustrated again, she sat there quietly, seeming to be lost in thought.

D'Artagnan grinned to himself. Perhaps this was the end of it. Why was she so obsessed with knowing his name anyway? No one else seemed to care that they didn't know it. He decided it must be a 'woman' thing. Women were funny that way. They wanted to know every little detail, and then would find some way to use it against the man. He decided he'd just not bother her again until they got back to the garrison.

"Unless….."

Oh no. Here she was on round 2, or was it now round 3? Ok, he could play along. Sooner or later she'd have to get tired of the game.

"There has to be some reason you don't want your name known. It must be something really awful. Something like…..Octavius! Octavius D'Artagnan." Making a face, she said, "Eww, no parent in their right mind would name you that."

D'Artagnan couldn't help but laugh at this. So this was what she wanted to play. Ok, he was game.

"Maybe it's Reginald. Reginald D'Artagnan."

"Jacqueline D'Artagnan."

Looking quickly over at him, then turning back to stare into the darkness again, she decided to ignore it. He was just trying to get her mind off her quest again. "Augustus D'Artagnan."

"Jacqueline Roget-D'Artagnan."

"Philippe D'Artagnan. That's not bad."

Feigning a look of interest D'Artagnan said, casually, "Nah. I wouldn't name our son any of those. What do you think I should call you? My darling? My darling Jacqueline?"

Crossing her brows, Jacqueline stammered, "First you insist that we're going to be married, which is totally out of the question! Then you insinuate that we're going to have a son? Aren't you putting the carriage in front of the horse?"

"Ahh, you are right! It might just be a daughter first. Maybe you better think of some girl's names while you're at it."

"You enjoy driving me insane, don't you?" she asked him, wondering what her next ploy should be.

"Why do you rise to the occasion so easily then…..if you don't enjoy it?" he asked, eyeing her curiously.

"Because you're just so….just so….."

"Flamboyant? Handsome? Irresistible? Would you like me to continue?"

"No, that's enough, thank you! I just have to admit that I don't think I've ever met a man as conceited as you are," she said, giving up on her quest for now. It wasn't fair. There had to be a way to find the answer. Then maybe she could use it as blackmail the next time he even thought of discussing children, or even marriage.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said as they were coming back into Paris toward the garrison.

"You would!" she said, glad that their patrol was nearly at its end. The time had actually gone fast for her, between all her thinking and the bantering going on with D'Artagnan. But she was tired and would be very glad to crawl into her nice soft bed again. She let out a big yawn as they neared the stables.

"Are you going to have sweet dreams of me?" D'Artagnan asked, partly out of curiosity, partly out of the wish he had that she would dream of him.

"No!" She had almost yelled the answer to him. The problem was that she was afraid he would enter her dreams as he tended to do much more than she liked.

"I'm going to have sweet dreams about you," he said, mainly to see what reaction it would get from her. He was really hoping she would invade his dreams. It's about the only time that he gets to see her in a dress, her long hair falling…..no, he wouldn't think about it. Perhaps he would be better off if he could just forget that she was a woman and think of her only as his comrade. As much as he wanted it, it hurt that much more that she didn't.

"Well then," she told him as she put her saddle away, "I will wish you a very good night. Or day as it is. Anyways, sleep well D'Artagnan."

"You too, Jacques."


	3. The Letter

_**What's in a Name?**_

_Chapter 3_

_The Letter_

A week had come and gone and D'Artagnan had heard nothing more about his name from Jacqueline. It was as though she had never asked him. Their conversations were once again centered on their duties and friends. Even their practices, a time when they would joke and banter with each other, were the same as before. Everything was back to normal.

Then why had he woken up early again? It seemed to be becoming common place. Since patrol that night, he found it harder to sleep without seeing visions of Jacqueline sitting in the Café laughing, or remembering their conversation as they rode patrol. He had thought he could just bury his feelings and look at her as nothing more than just another Musketeer. During the day it was easy enough, as Duval kept them busy. But when he slept, he couldn't stop her from sneaking into his dreams, haunting him, because he knew he could not have her.

D'Artagnan decided what he needed to do. Getting up, he got dressed, ready for the day. Then he walked over to his desk and sat down, pulled out a sheet of paper and started to write. Quickly he was filling the page with his words. He jumped when he heard a knock on the door. 

"Come in."

Jacqueline opened his door and poked her head in. "You didn't come for breakfast. I thought maybe there was something wrong."

He looked up from his desk at the sound of her voice. "Hey Jacques, come on in." This was it. He knew it. She'd just been waiting for a good time to bring it up again.

She walked in, closed the door behind her and went over to the desk, afraid that she may have interrupted him doing something important. "I just wanted to…….What are you doing?"

" Just writing a letter. I want to get it into the post today."

Then perhaps she was interrupting him. Trying to peek over his shoulder without being obvious, she said, with a little sarcasm in her voice, "Oh? A love letter to one of your many admirers?"

Noting her tone, D'Artagnan answered, "Yes, right, a love letter."

"Hmm, to whom? Charlotte maybe?"

"If it was a love letter, why would I have to post it?"

Not expecting this reply, Jacqueline's mind was racing. "Because you're...too afraid to give it to her in person."

D'Artagnan resumed his writing, a small grin coming to his lips. Could this be a touch of jealousy, even after all she'd said the other night? "It's NOT a love letter."

Jacqueline was surprised to find that she was actually relieved by this. "Then what is it?"

"Just a letter." He always enjoyed her childlike curiosity. "Didn't you say you wanted something?"

"To your father perhaps?"

"No, not to my father."

"Then to whom?"

D'Artagnan grinned. "You're a bit nosy, aren't you?"

Taken aback, she stammered, "Sorry, just curious." She walked over and sat down on the bed, deciding that she must have interrupted something he definitely did not want her to know about.

"Actually, it's a letter to Aramis."

Jacqueline looked up in surprise. "THE Aramis?"

He turned to look at her. "What is it with you and the THE all the time? Of course I know THE Aramis."

She replied, the awe very apparent in her voice, "You are SO lucky."

As he continued to look at her, he wasn't aware of the longing that had come into his eyes. With a little sadness in his voice he said, "Right." Lucky was the last thing that D'Artagnan felt right now.

To know the original Musketeers! She couldn't help but be envious, wishing that she had had a life like his. How could he act as though it was something not to be proud of? Anyone would love to be in his shoes. "So what are you writing to him about?"

He turned back to his letter. There was no way he could tell her what he was writing about. Every time he had tried to tell her how he felt, she had gotten angry. She would never understand him telling someone else that he planned to marry her. "Just asking him for a little advice."

"About what? If I may ask."

D'Artagnan wondered if Aramis could give him the advice he needed to confess his love for his compadre, especially when she clearly didn't share his feelings. But he knew that she at least cared for him. Had he not detected a touch of jealousy in her voice earlier? Or had he only imagined it? Could Aramis also advise him on how to go on with his life as it is, if she were not able to love him in return? He came out of his thoughts, remembering that Jacqueline was there in his room. Trying to resume an air of just friendship, he answered, "About how to get my friend to quit asking so many questions."

Jacqueline laughed. "Ok, ok."

He finished his letter, sealed it, and wrote upon it the address that would take it to the man that had been like a second father to him. Standing up and turning to face her, he said, "There, I'm done." Then he remembered the reason he felt she had really come in for. "Wasn't there something you wanted?"

She had forgotten that she had in fact come in with a purpose. "Oh yeah. Captain Duval wanted me to tell you that he wanted a meeting with you."

"Oh." He found that he was disappointed by this. Perhaps she had actually given up on wanting to know his name. He should be glad. He really had no intention of telling her, unless she agreed to share her life with him. Then why was this thought bothering him?

Jacqueline stood, watching him. It seemed as though she had seen a hundred different emotions in his eyes in the past few minutes. What was he thinking? Was he worried that she had come in with the intentions of asking about his name again? She had been concerned about broaching the subject at all during the past week; afraid that once again he would start talking of marriage and a life together. Plus their duties and practices always seemed to coincide with Ramon's and Siroc's. What if they overheard? Her secret would be known; her life as she had worked so hard to build up would be over. She wasn't sure when she could find another opportunity to ask him, or to try to find a way to get him to tell her.

They both seemed to realize at the same time that they were staring at each other. Embarrassed, Jacqueline lowered her eyes, trying not to blush. D'Artagnan looked down at the letter he held in his hand.

"We better go," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

Jacqueline nodded and started for the door.

"Any idea what Duval wants to see me about?"

"He didn't say," she answered, then added, "Would you like me to grab you some breakfast before everything is put away?"

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry. I'll get something later at the Café." He followed her out the door and headed for Duval's office. He couldn't imagine what Duval would want a meeting with him for. After that, he'd have to go post his letter. He had no idea what kind of response he would get from Aramis; perhaps just advice that he would be better off to forget love and become an abbot. Laughing to himself, D'Artagnan wondered if that would be such bad advice.


	4. Secrets

**_What's in a Name?_**

_Chapter 4_

_Secrets_

D'Artagnan walked out of Duval's office not knowing whether he was better off having been told this news or not. It really wasn't what he had wanted to hear. He had enough on his mind right now, not to mention the fact that he was starting to feel the effects of not getting enough sleep. But at least this was giving him advanced notice; he'd worry about it when the time came. Now his main concern was to post his letter.

Jacqueline had decided she would go to the stables. Perhaps staying busy would keep her mind occupied. She'd had enough thinking for one day, and it wasn't even noon yet. She picked up the curry-comb and started to groom her horse; it was long past due. She had neglected a lot of things this week; her mind refusing to forget that night a week ago.

When she looked up she saw D'Artagnan walking past the stable doors toward the main part of town. Should she go find out what Duval had wanted him for? After all, most duties he assigned he would have them work together on. Though, if it had been important, wouldn't D'Artagnan have come to tell her? Perhaps this was something Duval was giving only to him. But then, how would she know for sure unless she went to find out? She put the comb down, locked the gate of her horse's pen, and headed out the door to find him.

She was sure he was heading to the mercantile to post his letter; he had said he wanted it to go out today. Jacqueline still couldn't shake the feeling of envy for her best friend having grown up around the original Musketeers. It had to have been much more exciting then her humble childhood on the farm; and yet he acted as though it were nothing.

When she rounded the corner she could see D'Artagnan just up the street. He was nearly to the mercantile. Another minute and she'd know what the meeting was about. What she saw next, though, made her stop where she was. Not now, thought Jacqueline.

As D'Artagnan neared the door of the store, out of that very door walked Charlotte. Of course, when Charlotte spotted him, she smiled and quickly walked over to him. Jacqueline stood there watching the pair talking back and forth. Somehow she couldn't bring herself to interrupt them; she just stood there watching the interlude. She thought to herself that she was probably the only woman in Paris that he hadn't shared his secret with. She was sure she was the only woman in Paris that hadn't given herself up to him.

After a couple of minutes that, to Jacqueline, had felt like hours, D'Artagnan took his leave and walked into the mercantile. Now would be her chance to ask Charlotte. She was quite certain that if Charlotte knew, she wouldn't keep it quiet.

Jacqueline once again started down the street. Charlotte, as though on cue, noticed her and hurried her way, wearing a big smile.

"Hello Jacques," Charlotte started.

"Well, hello Charlotte. I had noticed you talking with D'Artagnan a moment ago and I was wondering….."

"Oh, D'Artagnan?" Charlotte interrupted, speaking in her usual, quick way. "Yes, I was. Isn't he the most adorable man you've ever met?"

"Well, I…."

"Oh, I know you wouldn't notice, being a man yourself and all. But I think……."

Oh no, does this woman never stop talking? "Yes, I know, but I was wondering if….."

"I just was asking him if he would possibly do this little thing….."

Heavens! If she would just let me get a word in, I could find out if she knows anything.

"…..and he said he would think about it and……"

How on earth does he stand talking with her? Jacqueline wondered. Could he actually like to listen to chatter like this? He must; it seemed like most women in town talked this way. But perhaps it wasn't the conversation that they enjoyed together.

If I have to listen to a few more minutes of this, I may have to gag her, she thought.

"……I thought if you could do this one teeny, tiny favor for me……" continued Charlotte.

"Well, I……."

"Oh, I just knew you would! Thank you so much, Jacques!"

And with that, Charlotte rushed on down the street, leaving Jacqueline to wonder what she had just supposedly agreed to do. Her head spinning, she also realized that she was no closer to finding out the answer.

She decided that what she thought had been a simple question was turning into quite a complicated one. Why couldn't he have just told her in the first place, instead of being his usual stubborn, smug self? He was so irritating at times! She wondered why he never seemed to be that way with anyone else.

"Hey Jacques!" came D'Artagnan's voice from behind her, making her jump.

"Geesh! Don't do that!" She turned to see him laughing at her. "Sometimes I'd just like to punch you!" Oh no, had she just said that out loud?

Still laughing, he said, "Be my guest…..if you think you're man enough. But then again, it could be fun….."

Jacqueline made a face at him. Always with the insinuations!

"What were you and Charlotte talking about just now?" he continued.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"But I asked you first. So?"

"Actually, I'm not sure; I wasn't really listening to her. She was just chattering something about favors or something," she said, still wondering what favor Charlotte thought she had agreed to.

"I honestly wasn't listening either." I was thinking of you…….in a light blue dress…….with your dark hair falling down…..Maybe you should punch me, he thought.

Jacqueline laughed. "So, what did Duval want?"

D'Artagnan looked down, thinking. No way was he going to tell her the real reason for the meeting. "Nothing, really. Just to talk."

"Just to talk," she repeated.

"Yes."

"Oh." So he didn't want to tell her. Well, he could keep his secrets! Then, the more she thought about it, the more she started feeling guilty; he should have his secrets that she's not privy to. After all, he had been right; she still had a few secrets that he knew nothing about.

"What do you have planned for today?" she asked, as they started walking back toward the garrison.

"Well, I have patrol with Siroc in a couple of hours, so I'm not sure what to do until then," he said, wishing that Jacqueline could walk freely as herself through town. He yearned to reach out for her hand. But then, he thought, she probably wouldn't let me take it anyways. "What about you?"

"I thought maybe I'd go riding. Paris is nice, but sometimes I miss the wide open spaces of the country."

"You miss your family, don't you?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He wished he had the power to bring them back for her.

She smiled in a sad way. "Yes, very much." If they were still alive, she'd have someone to talk to about her feelings, even if their answers would be from a man's point of view. But she knew that she needed time alone, to think. At times it was hard for her to talk to D'Artagnan without wanting more. But she was not going to be just another one of his many flings. When she decided to let herself love a man, she wanted that love returned by someone that would be true to her; someone who wanted to share his life as she would share hers. D'Artagnan was just too fickle.

"Jacqueline," D'Artagnan said in a low voice so only she would hear. "We should start thinking of a way to get your name cleared." She stopped and looked at him. He stopped too, returning her gaze. "You shouldn't have to spend the rest of your life hiding. You don't deserve that."

Tears started welling up in her eyes. "You'd help me clear my name?" she asked quietly. Every time she had given up on him, he'd say something so caring. It wasn't fair.

"That's what friends do," he answered, noticing the tears about to spill out of her eyes, the only eyes he wanted to spend the rest of his life looking into. He found that at that moment he would be willing to give up his dream of being a Musketeer, as well as his country, if he could just reach up and wipe them away. He had to find a way to prove himself to her; a way that would cause her to love him as he already loved her.


	5. Fears and the Fearless

_**What's in a Name**_

_Chapter 5_

_Fears and the Fearless_

Jacqueline found herself a couple miles outside of Paris before she allowed herself to relax. She wasn't sure where her horse was taking her, nor did she care, as long as it carried her away from Paris. She needed this time to think. So many things were going through her head at one time.

For the past two hours she and D'Artagnan had sat in his quarters trying to come up with a way to approach Prince Louis with the request to have Jacqueline pardoned. They hadn't yet come up with a solution that didn't include her coming out of hiding to plead her case. If she did, they both knew that she would be arrested immediately. There was little doubt that Mazarin would be at the meeting with the Prince and it would be a matter of his word against hers.

Thoughts of D'Artagnan kept popping into her mind. She was very grateful to him for trying to help her. He could be so sweet when he wasn't battling wits with her; but she had to admit that she'd never had a better adversary for it. She found it both frustrating and exhilarating at the same time. It was getting harder for her to remember when he wasn't a part of her life; he just seemed to always have been there.

Her thoughts were interrupted when, from behind her, she heard what had sounded like the snort of a horse. Was she being followed? How long had another rider been back there, without her knowing it? She looked back, but since she was traveling through a part of a timber area, she could see nothing but trees. Yet she was certain of what she'd heard. Perhaps it was just another traveler taking a short-cut through the woods.

Not wanting to take the chance, she led her horse into the thicket just off the road, dismounted, and hid behind a tree to wait. Hopefully she was just being nervous for nothing; there was no reason for anyone to be following her. Patiently she waited, trying to keep her horse quiet. As she started to hear the sound of hooves on the soft roadbed, she drew her pistol and pulled the hammer back. It wouldn't be long now until she would see who it was.

She peered around the tree, her arm outstretched, aiming the pistol a few feet above the surface of the road. Whoever it was was nearly there. Her heartbeat sped up as she slowed her breathing a bit to control her aim. Just one more second…..

"D'Artagnan!" she yelled, making both D'Artagnan and his horse jump. As he pulled back on the reins to control the horse, she continued, "What are you doing here?"

Quickly looking over to see Jacqueline standing partially hidden behind a tree with her pistol pointed at him, he replied, "Hopefully not getting shot! So, if you don't mind….."

She lowered her pistol, released the hammer, and came out of the thicket with her horse in tow. "I said what are you doing here?" she continued.

Having been caught, his mind reeled for any excuse he could give her. "I got lost."

"You got lost. How could you get lost?"

"Well, it wasn't hard really," he stammered.

"I thought you were supposed to be on patrol with Siroc."

"Well, see," he started, gesturing with his hands, "he went this way, I went that way, and…."

"And you got lost. You really expect me to believe that?"

"I was hoping you would."

Sighing, she said, "Why don't you just tell me the truth?" She climbed back into the saddle. "You were spying on me."

"I was NOT spying on you."

She shot him a suspicious glance. "You were too. Why else would you come up with this lame excuse?"

"Well, I thought it was a pretty good one, for being on the spur of the moment."

She sat and looked him. "Where's Siroc?"

"I traded patrols with Andre. I was worried about you."

She lowered her eyes for a moment, and then raised them again to meet his. "Well, you needn't be. I'm fine. You made a trip out here for nothing."

"I just wanted to make sure. You were a bit upset this morning."

"Which is why I came out here. To be alone."

"Ok, you can be alone. I'll just follow behind to make sure no one bothers you. Just pretend that I'm not here," he said nonchalantly.

She looked at him, shaking her head. "You are being ridiculous."

At that, he just grinned at her. Her heart felt like it skipped a beat. I have got to stop feeling like this, she thought. She turned her horse around and it started walking back toward town. Perhaps she could be alone in her quarters at the garrison before she had to return to duty.

"You're not going back already?" D'Artagnan asked, thinking that he must have made her angry. When she didn't say anything, he was sure or it. Every time he tried to show her he did care about her, she took it the wrong way. Women! But then, he thought as he watched her riding away from him, it was just this woman; none of the rest of them in town acted like this one did. That was part of what he found fascinating about her. If only he hadn't been as careless as to let her find out he was following her. He supposed he had better catch up with her and apologize.

He turned his horse around and headed it back the way he'd just come. What should he say to her? Just a simple 'I'm sorry'? What would she say to him in return? He did deserve whatever she would say. He was, in the worst sense of the word, spying on her; even if it was with the best of intentions. He sighed. Why did love have to be so difficult? Is this what other men went through to get the woman he loved to say yes? He frowned and thought that there was probably not another woman in the entire world that fought love and marriage as much as she did.

"Jacqueline, wait," he said, as he hurried to catch up with her. She said nothing, didn't even look at him, her horse continuing in its slow march toward town. Oh great, now what, he thought. "I'm sorry. I should not have followed you. Like I said, I was worried about you." Again, there was no answer from her; no acknowledgement whatsoever. He sighed again. Silence was worse than being yelled at. "Jacqueline, please. I am really sorry."

"You said I could pretend you weren't here."

He breathed a sigh of relief, she wasn't angry. "Oh, yeah, I forgot." Well, she was talking again, so here goes! "So, what do you have against marriage?"

Here we go, she thought, rolling her eyes. Why does he keep bringing that up? "Why won't you tell me your name?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to know," she said, refusing to look in his direction; instead, concentrating on the line of trees ahead of them.

"Then marry me." There, I finally said it, he thought. Suddenly, panic set in. What if he didn't like her answer?


	6. Where Love Grows

_**What's in a Name?**_

_Chapter 6_

_Where Love Grows_

Please, God, let lightening strike me now, she thought. Could he actually be so determined to keep his secret from her that he would risk her saying yes? But that would be stupid, she told herself; he had his pick of women in Paris and she was definitely not the type he'd choose. He was just trying to get a rise out of her. Even so, she could feel her heart starting to race. Now I'm being stupid, she thought. The last thing she wanted to think about was marriage, especially to an egotistical man like him. "You're changing the subject."

"I'm not, you are. I had asked you about marriage."

"You just want to avoid my question."

"And now you're avoiding mine."

"Ok then, tell me, do you propose to all your girlfriends that way?"

"Are you saying you're my girlfriend?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you didn't say no."

"Just answer the question."

The panic was getting worse. This was not going the way he wanted it to. Why couldn't she have just given him a simple yes or no answer? He was beginning to think she enjoyed torturing him. "Are you against marriage in general or just marriage to me?"

She finally turned her head and looked at him. "Sometimes I really don't understand you. Nearly every woman in Paris has a crush on you, which you obviously enjoy, and yet you insist on playing this game with me. First off, no woman wants a proposal of 'then marry me'. A proposal should be at least a little romantic. Second, what woman would accept a proposal from a man whose name she doesn't know? But then again, maybe those women in Paris wouldn't care if you didn't tell them. After all, you are the son of the Great D'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan flinched.

"But since you insist on this game, then suppose I would say yes. Then what? 'The son of the Great D'Artagnan marrying the daughter of a dirt-poor farmer.' Not to mention one with a price on her head. That would be quite a story in Paris. And a big blemish on the family name. And what happens when you get tired of me as your wife? Then am I to stay at home with the children and the cooking and cleaning while you run off on your Musketeer business or whatever else you wished to do, patiently waiting for you to decide to come home?" She sighed and turned to face the road again. "I have no desire to be married, D'Artagnan. To anyone."

D'Artagnan sat there looking at her for a moment, realizing how little he really knew her: her wants, her wishes, her dreams. Having known it would not be easy to win her over, he was finding out just how hard it would actually be. He had sworn to himself that he would never want her to change for him, but it was now becoming clear that he was expecting her to.

What she said had hit him like a slap on the face. Naively, he had been dreaming of the perfect life with her, but she was showing him the harsh realities of the very things he had refused to see. He had expected her to fall madly in love with him and be happy just to be his. But in reality, she had seen so much hardship, especially lately, that he couldn't blame her at all for being cautious, maybe even scared. And he had to consider what would happen if they could not get her name cleared. How could they have any kind of life as a man and woman when she was wanted for murder? She had once said that she would not leave France and it would be unfair of him to expect her to, just to make him happy. He was finally getting a glimpse of the real Jacqueline, and what he saw made him love her all the more.

They rode on to town in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. When they reached town, Jacqueline continued on to the garrison while D'Artagnan turned toward the mercantile. Once there, he dismounted and walked in to check to see if he'd received a post yet. He was anxiously awaiting a reply from Aramis.

The store clerk checked through the bag of mail and pulled out a small letter addressed to him. D'Artagnan nervously took it and tore it open. It was written in a neat, flowing handwriting which he immediately recognized as his mentor's.

Dear little D,

I'm sorry this is short, but I'm preparing to leave soon with

your father. I wanted to let you know that I will try to answer

all your concerns, though I'm not sure how helpful my advice

may be to you.

So, the mighty D has finally fallen. I'm happy for you. I knew

some day you would. I'm sure that if you do love her, then she

is worthy of it, without question.

A small bit of advice I will give you now. Remember that a

woman does not give her love easily, even when it screams to.

Often what she says is not what she truly feels in her heart. And

anything that is worth having is not easily won.

Aramis

As he read the short note, disappointment came over him; Aramis had written nothing in his lines that told D'Artagnan what to do. And now there were even more questions to ask. Never before had D'Artagnan been at a loss as to how to get a woman to fall for him; usually a smile and a kind word and the woman was willing to do nearly anything. This experience was foreign to him; what had started as a challenge was now something that consumed his every thought. Aramis had always been D'Artagnan's confidant, unlike his father, and would keep his secrets, but would Aramis also keep secret the basis for the letter? D'Artagnan hoped so; he did not want to face questions from his father.

He put the letter in his pocket and left the mercantile to return to the garrison. The letter brought back the fact that he had not yet told Jacqueline the news Duval had told him. But that could wait until morning, as he knew what her reaction would be, and he needed a good night's sleep before he faced that.

Jacqueline, upon returning to the garrison, was preparing for her few hours of patrol. Thankfully, it was not with D'Artagnan, she thought. The time away from him would do her good; at least she would get to have a conversation that didn't include the word marriage in it. When the patrol was over, she'd be free to crawl into her bed. She was starting to get confused about everything he had said over the past couple of weeks and needed peaceful sleep, hopefully it would ease her mind and let her think clearly again.

By midnight both were tucked soundly in their beds, eyes wide open, and minds still not resting. Jacqueline wondered if she had been too harsh with him; after all, she knew that he wasn't serious about marriage, but it bothered her nonetheless. D'Artagnan was also thinking of the afternoon's conversation, trying to understand why she never took him seriously and always brought up his past dates; she should know him well enough to know that he would never do anything immoral with them.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny outside, while inside, the garrison was coming to life again. Everyone, including D'Artagnan and Jacqueline, was rising and preparing for the day. Both looked out their small windows at the sunlit Paris street, thinking that such a nice day had to be a good omen.

Jacqueline finished dressing and left her quarters to get breakfast. Finding the dining room full already with the other Musketeers, she decided to eat in the common room. She sat down in a chair next to the fire and began eating.

After debating how best to tell her, D'Artagnan finally left his quarters in search of Jacqueline. Finding her sitting in the common room, he put on a smile and went inside, sitting in a chair next to her. "Morning Jacques."

"Morning," she said in between bites.

"Guess who's coming to dinner," he quickly said before he lost his nerve.

She stopped eating and looked at him, "The King of England."

D'Artagnan made a face, "Ack! No! Guess again."

Not being overly curious about it, she answered, "Why don't you just tell me and then we'll both know?"

"Well...maybe after that, I shouldn't tell you at all." He started to get back up out of his chair, thinking that maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all. Perhaps it was best just to let her be surprised.

Jacqueline grabbed his sleeve to stop him, almost spilling her food on the floor. "Geesh, you are so infuriating! Who? Who is coming to dinner?"

He sat back down, a smug look on his face. "My father."

She looked away from him, her mind busy thinking. "Hmm, wonderful. I think that's wonderful news!"

He looked at her curiously, realizing she was enjoying the news too much. "You will not get over your fascination with him, will you?"

She had a gleam in her eye as she looked back at him, a small smile on her lips, "I just think it's a great opportunity."

His look changed quickly from curiosity to suspicion, wondering what she was up to. "Opportunity for what?"

Jacqueline got up from her chair still holding her plate, ready to make a hasty retreat. "To ask him. I'm sure HE'LL tell me what he named you." And with that, she quickly walked out of the room.

D'Artagnan sat stunned watching her leave. Suddenly he realized what she had said. "Oh my...! Jacques, wait!" He got up and ran after her.


	7. Henri

_**What's in a Name?**_

_Chapter 7_

_Henri_

"Jacques, wait up!" she heard from behind her shortly after leaving the garrison. Why am I not surprised, she thought, rolling her eyes.

"Jacques…," he said, catching up with her.

"Are you going to follow me again today? You know, I could just write you out an itinerary and save you a lot of time."

"I'm not following you."

"You said that yesterday."

"Yesterday was different."

"Really." she responded sarcastically.

"You're not going to bother my father with that ridiculous question, are you?"

"Then are you going to tell me?"

D'Artagnan didn't say anything.

"Didn't think so. I'll see you later, D'Artagnan."

"Where are you going? I know he won't be in town yet."

"You have a one-track mind, you know that?" she stated.

"I try. So…where are you going?"

"Actually, you could follow me right now. I'm going to Mass, and it wouldn't hurt you in the least…"

"I would," he stammered, "except…I have patrol this morning."

"No you don't."

"I have Andre's patrol from last night."

"Oh, I forgot about that. Enjoy your ride then," she said as she turned toward the church, leaving D'Artagnan to look after her helplessly.

Women! he thought. And they think we have a one-track mind? Ok D'Artagnan, get it through your head that she IS going to ask him, and that he IS going to tell her, and that you are NOT going to hear the end of it for as long as you live! He sighed and started walking back to the garrison.

Jacqueline could hear the bells announcing the start of Mass as she neared the church. Great, she was late again; she'd have to sit in the back and strain to hear the service. She entered the church, crossed herself, and went to the only space left she could find: the end of a pew beside an older, distinguished looking man in dusty clothes. Taking her place, she kneeled beside him for a short prayer before settling herself down on the seat next to him. Glancing quickly over, she noted that he was a good looking man probably in his 50's, well dressed, and having an air of almost aristocracy about him.

The gentleman sat watching the young man entering the pew beside him and slid over to allow enough room for him to sit. At first glance he could plainly see that it was a Musketeer. Then, paying closer attention, he noticed the slight build, dark hair, and smooth complexion that made him wonder about this man. Of course, he could be completely wrong in his observation but he had a feeling he was right, though it might require a little investigatory work on his part to find out for sure. He leaned closer to the young man and began the conversation. "Hello."

"Hello."

"I couldn't help but notice that you're a Musketeer."

"Yes I am," she replied, trying to keep her voice at a lower octave as she whispered.

"Believe it or not," he continued, "I was one once as well, way back in the day. I'm Henri." He held his hand out to shake Jacqueline's.

Taking his hand in her own, she replied, "I'm Jacques. It's nice to meet a fellow Musketeer."

"That it is." As he shook her hand he noticed the strong hold, yet it was of a thinner, more feminine bone structure. He wasn't surprised to find that his suspicions were correct.

"Back in the day? Then perhaps you knew the great D'Artagnan."

"I've had the pleasure of making his acquaintance, yes."

"I'm envious then. To be a Musketeer in the day of the four greatest Musketeers that have ever lived!" she said, the envy very clear in her voice. In her excitement, she hadn't noticed that her voice had gotten a little louder until she heard a 'Shhhh' from the pew ahead of her, reminding her of where she was.

The gentleman was softly laughing. "Well, I don't know about that, but it was sure interesting times. I believe his son is also a Musketeer now. Do you know him?"

Jacqueline unconsciously rolled her eyes. "Yes," she said a bit sarcastically. "He's not at all like his father though."

Again, the gentleman quietly laughed. "No, from what I've seen of the younger one, I have to agree on that. It's said that he takes a lot after his mother."

"Well then, I'd hate to meet his mother," she quickly answered. Then, realizing what she'd said, she crossed herself and added, "I shouldn't have said that."

Henri couldn't help but laugh at that, causing another round of 'Shhhh' to be resounded from the pews around them. Talking loud enough for them to hear, he said, "Shhhh, yourself. You can't hear the service back here anyways."

Jacqueline giggled without realizing it.

He looked over at her, finding that he was beginning to like this 'man'. But if she wasn't careful, he thought, she'd end up giving herself away. Leaning back toward her, he asked, "So, you don't like the young D'Artagnan?"

She thought for a moment, trying to think of the right words to say. "Well, yes, I like him. He's my best friend actually. It's just that he's..." She paused.

"He's what?"

"He's…well, he's arrogant, very vain, irritating, stubborn, and…thinks he's the best swordsman around."

The gentleman smiled. "That doesn't sound so different from his father. Have you ever met the 'great' D'Artagnan?"

"Once. I found him to be quite…" she stopped herself from saying 'charming', instead adding, "interesting."

"Yes. They both have that in common as well."

Jacqueline rolled her eyes again. "Well, the 'younger' will never be what his father is."

Henri looked at her thoughtfully. "It's as it should be. One is not the other; each must make his own way in the world. That does not make one better than the other, just different. It is the same with everyone. I'm sure you are not exactly like your father, nor would you want to be."

She nodded in understanding.

"D'Artagnan is young," he continued, "and still making his way in the world; he has a lot to learn yet. But I think in some ways the journey he takes will make him greater than even his father. As I said, there's a lot of his mother in him too."

Jacqueline sat looking at this man, feeling as though he must be the wisest man in France. Had fate played a part in bringing her late into church and placing her next to him? He seemed to see right through her, even though they had never met before. She wondered if they would meet again, but as this was the first time that she'd ever seen him, he apparently wasn't from Paris and was only passing through. That was a shame, she thought, as he seemed the type that she would like to have as a friend.

Hearing a shuffle around them, they both realized that the mass had ended, neither of them having heard any of the service. They rose and walked out of the church together, still talking. At the base of the stairs leading to the street they shook hands again, saying their goodbyes.

Jacqueline started walking back to the garrison. She wondered if she should ask D'Artagnan if he knew Henri, but realizing that Henri hadn't told her his last name, she doubted that D'Artagnan would know who she was talking about. Perhaps they'd meet up later in the day, if this Henri wasn't in a hurry to leave town.

Henri had remained standing at the base of stairs watching Jacqueline walk away. He smiled, thinking to himself, 'Yes, she is worthy'.


	8. Hidden Agendas

_**What's in a Name?**_

_Chapter 8_

_Hidden Agendas_

Aramis sat in the back room of the Café sipping his coffee and listening to his friend of nearly forty years talking, only hearing part of what the senior D'Artagnan was saying. His thoughts kept drifting back to the young lady that had just left their company; how different, yet the same, she had appeared when compared with their meeting earlier in the morning. He wasn't surprised that D'Artagnan hadn't realized the comparison, knowing that the son of his closest friend had never felt the ability to confide in the same man Aramis did.

Thinking back, he had barely taken notice of the tall, slender blonde that had walked up to them at the bar and started talking with D'Artagnan. Being used to this occurrence whenever he traveled with his friend, Aramis paid little attention to them, lost in thoughts of what he would say to the son when he joined them later. It wasn't until the topic had turned to the younger D'Artagnan that Aramis realized who this young lady was and turned his head to look at her. When their eyes met, he saw a quick look of recognition pass across hers before she lowered them. Glancing around the Café, he suggested that they retire to the adjacent room, which would offer them some privacy; a suggestion readily agreed to by the others. Once inside the room, he kept candid the fact that he knew who she was; he would leave it up to Jacqueline to disclose this secret, if she chose to.

"I see introductions apparently aren't needed for you two, but I'd like to introduce myself." Holding out his hand to her once again, he continued, "I'm Henri d'Aramitz, fondly known to my friends as Aramis." He smiled at the look of stunned shock that had come over her.

She remained rooted to the spot, unable to move, for what seemed like several minutes before she finally regained her senses. Her mind was racing as fast as it had been the night she'd met the renowned father of her best friend; and now, she was in the presence of two of the greatest men in France. Gerard would never have believed this, she thought. "I am honored," she finally said, taking his hand as before.

"And you are?"

Recovering her composure, she replied, "Jacqueline. I'm a friend of D'Artagnan's….the younger one."

Both men smiled; Aramis, because he understood more than she knew, and D'Artagnan, because he was happy to see that his son had finally met a woman with some character. Maybe there's hope for him yet, he thought.

"I'm pleased to meet you. I believe I met your brother in church this morning," As soon as he said it, he saw a change come over Jacqueline's expression and realized he had just made a mistake. Trying to remedy the situation, he stammered, "I take it he is your brother; you and he look very much alike."

Afraid to meet Aramis' eyes, she replied, "Yes, he is. And we do."

"Your brother?" asked D'Artagnan, feeling as though he was missing something in their conversation.

"Jacques LePonte, he's a Musketeer."

"And he made quite a disturbance during the service this morning."

"He told me it was you that made the disturbance," she said, finally meeting his eyes again, trying to read what was in them.

"Well, I have to admit, I did help a little." Grinning at her, Aramis saw her relax, thinking the situation well handled. He knew he would face more than just Jacqueline's wrath if he let it slip that her confidant had told him about her.

"So, where were we?" asked D'Artagnan, motioning for Jacqueline to take a seat at the table. "Ah yes, we were discussing my son and the plans for tomorrow."

Remembering how adamant D'Artagnan was about his father's absence while he was growing up, she was surprised at how many stories the older D'Artagnan had told her about his son, Aramis adding things from time to time. She learned that while much of the son's attitude was inherited from his father, some was also learned from his relationships with the other three, each teaching him a different way to view life: Porthos instructing him on the value of using his influence to get what he wanted, especially with the ladies; Athos, on how to choose those he could trust; and Aramis teaching him empathy. His tenderness, D'Artagnan had added with a touch of sadness in his voice, was inherited from his mother.

The two gentlemen had put her so much at ease that she found herself recounting events in her own childhood as well. They were not as interesting of stories as her friend's, but both men listened attentively as though they were, laughing especially at the accounts of Jacqueline and Gerard's portrayals of their 'heroes'.

Jacqueline couldn't remember a more relaxed and enjoyable time than the one she was having with the two men she never thought she would ever have the luck to meet. They were no longer larger than life to her, but two ordinary men living their lives doing what they thought was right. She went from idolizing them to having a deep respect for them, beginning to look on them as friends.

After leaving the men, she returned to the garrison storeroom and changed back into her alter self. Sometimes I really hate this masquerade, she thought, as she folded her dress so it would fit back into the small carpetbag purchased for this use. Making sure her wig was tucked into the bag as well, Jacqueline checked her refection in a small mirror, adding the goatee as a finishing touch. The bag was then concealed behind a barrel.

Being a Musketeer had been a dream of hers ever since she had first heard the stories, but more and more lately she wished to be one as herself, instead of as someone she wasn't. It was a constant strain not to let her voice and actions slip to reveal that she was not a man; the looks of her comrades suggesting at times that she had not yet mastered the mannerisms of the opposite sex. She was also afraid that one day D'Artagnan would accidentally call her by name while they were in the company of others; a fear that was stronger than the one of her being caught dressed as a woman. How much longer could she succeed in fooling everyone? Trying to push the worry to the back of her mind, she thought about D'Artagnan's offer to help clear her name. There had to be a way, they just needed to find it.

Walking into her quarters, Jacqueline closed the door and crossed the room to her bed. Laying down on it, she let her mind drift back to the conversation in the Café. The time had passed quickly and she had been reluctant to leave, but she knew that her friend would be returning from his patrol and did not want to face the questions he would ask if he found her there. Smiling, she started imagining him as the child in the stories they had told her. Then quickly sitting up, she remembered their telling her about the next day. Her thoughts started feeling jumbled as she tried to think of what her friend would like. Think, Jacqueline, there has to be something. But nothing was coming to mind. She pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her head on them, remembering all the items she'd seen in the mercantile. Suddenly an image came into her mind; it was something that meant a lot to her, but would he feel it was worthy of him? She'd have to take that chance, but first she had to get it.

She had been gone only a short while when the subject of their conversation walked through the door of the room in the Café, causing both men to look up. Aramis quickly leaned over to his comrade and whispered something to him, the latter giving him a curious look, then a slight nod of understanding. Standing, each in turn gave their nemesis a hug of welcome.

"It's good to see you again, Aramis," said the younger D'Artagnan. "And you, Father."

"Well, now I feel special," said the father, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"But I saw you not too long ago, if you remember. So, what's going on?"

His father and mentor glanced quickly at each other. "Nothing," they said in unison.

The son watched suspiciously as the other two retook their seats, then followed suit. "Then what was that whispering for? What are you two up to?"

"He's a bit paranoid, wouldn't you say Aramis?"

"Yes, I would say so."

"When you two are together, I have reason to be paranoid."

Aramis grinned at his friend, "You know, the older he gets, the more he sounds like Athos. Are you sure he's…"

The older D'Artagnan smiled. "Yes, I'm quite sure. He has my…feet."

The son closed his eyes for a moment, beginning to wish he was anywhere but there. "Ok…so, what are you two doing here?"

"Having some coffee."

"It's rather good, too. Would you like some?"

The younger D'Artagnan rested his chin in his hand. They were up to something, he just knew it. "Why did you come to Paris?"

Leaning back in his chair, the older D'Artagnan replied, "I always liked Paris. It's such a quaint city, always something to do here."

"Yes it is, and it's grown so much over the years. At times I've been tempted to move back here, if it wasn't for my work…"

"But certainly you could do your work from Paris. Another thesis?"

"Of sorts. You know, I never did finish that one I started back when…"

"Alright you two, I want to know why you're here!"

"You're being very impatient, son."

"Impatient and paranoid, not a good combination…"

Pushing himself up off his chair, the younger D'Artagnan sighed. "I'll be at the garrison whenever you two decide to let me in on your secret."

"Oh, now sit down, son. We've been discussing tomorrow."

"What about tomorrow," he asked, the suspicion returning. "You didn't tell anyone about tomorrow, did you?"

"Well…not really, just Duval."

"And there were those two ladies down by the livery."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about them."

"You didn't!" the younger exclaimed. They wouldn't, he thought. On second thought, yes they would! Great, how long before it was all over Paris? "I don't believe you two!" He turned and stormed out before he could say something he might regret.

The older gentlemen rose and followed him out of the room and the Café, standing just outside the door for a moment.

"That didn't go as badly as I thought it would," stated D'Artagnan.

Aramis frowned, watching his young protégé walking toward the garrison. He knew he still had to confront the questions asked of him, but until a few more pieces fell into place, he didn't have all the answers to them. Feeling a friendly hand on his shoulder, he looked over to his companion, realizing what had been plaguing his mind since Jacqueline had left them. He returned the gesture, deciding what they needed to do. "Well old friend, what do you say to a visit to the Prince?"

"Any particular reason? I get the feeling you're hiding something."

"I'll explain on the way."


	9. Unforeseen Problems

**_What's in a Name?_**

_Chapter 9_

_Unforeseen Problems_

D'Artagnan stalked into the garrison, still very upset. All he could think about was the embarrassment he would be facing the next day; his father had missed many of his other birthdays, so why not this one? The last thing he needed was women coming up to him wishing him a happy one when he was trying to prove himself to Jacqueline. And, once again, Aramis was giving him no help at all.

As he walked past the window of Siroc's lab, Ramon called out, "Hola amigo," but he seemed not to hear him; he just wanted to go to his quarters and be alone for a while.

"What is wrong with him," Ramon asked Siroc, still watching D'Artagnan.

Siroc shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't been able to figure his moods out lately."

Ramon turned back around to watch Siroc work. "Ni yo. Nor me; he is not his normal self anymore. I would think it was a woman, but I have not seen him with one in a while."

"Maybe that's his problem," replied Siroc. They both laughed.

D'Artagnan heard none of this, his mind elsewhere, as he started down the hallway that would take him to his quarters, just as Jacqueline was leaving hers. She looked up at him but he didn't return the glance.

"Hello."

"Yeah," he replied as he passed her.

"What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," he growled. Then, realizing who had just spoken to him, he turned and looked at her. "Sorry. Got a minute?"

"Well, I…" she started as he opened his door and walked in, leaving it open for her to follow. "…guess I have a minute."

She followed him inside and closed the door. "What's up? Patrol didn't go well?"

"Yeah, it was fine."

"Ok…then is something else wrong?" She waited for him to answer, but instead he just stood there looking at her, making her nervous. "What?"

"Nothing." He tore his eyes away from her, wondering what excuse he could come up with for inviting her in.

"I know why your father's here."

D'Artagnan looked back at her. "And why is that?" Surprisingly, his question seemed calm; he could already imagine that the entire garrison knew.

"He asked me not to tell you."

He stood up straighter, eying her suspiciously. "My father? You talked to him? I just saw him and he never mentioned having talked to you."

Jacqueline replied, nonchalantly, matching his gaze, "He did, he just didn't know it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all," she said, a grin coming to her lips as she turned and headed back out the door.

D'Artagnan watched the door close behind her, knowing what she meant, though he couldn't believe it; she wouldn't have taken a chance like that. Opening his door, he glanced out into the hall to see which way she had gone, and then he hurried to catch up with her. "Tell me what you meant by that!"

"I told you it was nothing!" she said as she continued walking.

"He's worth risking your life for?"

Not looking at him, she replied matter-of-factly, "I didn't do it for him." She continued walking toward the stables, knowing that if she didn't leave now she wouldn't make it to her destination and back before nightfall, D'Artagnan following behind.

Neither of them had noticed Ramon's and Siroc's heads watching them from the window of the lab during this exchange, both of them with raised eyebrows.

"You know, if I did not know them so well, mi amigo, I would really have to wonder about them."

Siroc thought for a moment as he watched them start into the stable. "Nah, not those two. Especially not D'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan and Jacqueline remained oblivious to everyone around them, not realizing that anyone else could hear their conversation, as they headed into the stable.

"Who did you do it for then?"

"D'Artagnan, the world does not revolve around your father," she stated as she went to the tack room for her saddle and bridle.

Without thinking, he took the saddle from her and carried it out to the pen that housed her horse. "Everyone acts as though it does."

She unlocked the pen and walked in. "He is a novelty, you know. How many people get to live long enough to be a living legend? Of course everyone's going to be fascinated by him." She worked to put the bridle on as D'Artagnan saddled the horse. "Why didn't you tell me Aramis was coming too?"

"I didn't know until a little while ago."

"Is that why you're in a lousy mood?"

"I'm not in a lousy mood."

"Yes, you are, and I don't appreciate you taking it out on me."

"I wasn't," then thinking for a second, "was I?"

"Yes." She took the reins and started leading her horse toward the street, D'Artagnan following close behind, his mind busy thinking.

"Jacqueline…"

In a loud whisper, she quipped back to him, "Will you keep your voice down? I'd appreciate the whole town not finding out who I am!"

Coming back to his senses, he apologized as the realization hit him that she was leaving. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Do you need to know everything I do?"

"No," he said, feeling a bit disappointed that she wouldn't share what she was up to. D'Artagnan was beginning to feel as though she was pulling away from him, and he didn't like that feeling at all. Tonight they started back on their week of patrol together; at least they'd get to talk again, something they hadn't been able to do much of lately. He'd have to worry about tomorrow tomorrow.

Jacqueline stood there watching the emotions in his eyes; she was fascinated at how expressive they were, none like she'd ever seen before. Except for her father and brother, she had never allowed herself to be close enough with any other man to study their expressions. But why did it have to be this man? Because, she thought to herself, he had been true to his word to keep her secret safe; she cared because she trusted him with her life.

While she had been almost mesmerized watching him, he had been studying her. Taking a step closer to her, their eyes locked, he quietly asked, "Why don't you just admit that you love me?"

Afraid of what she was feeling welling up inside her, she stammered, "Because I don't love you. I don't love any man."

"Then why are your eyes betraying you?" He couldn't stop himself from asking her; sure that he had seen something in them.

The horse moved at that moment, breaking the spell that they seemed to be under, and reminding Jacqueline of her mission.

"D'Artagnan, I have to go."

Stepping back so she could mount, he fought the urge to take her in his arms, even if the entire town saw it. But he knew that that would be the worse thing he could do.

Once mounted, she glanced down at him. "I should be back in three or four hours."

"Remember we have patrol tonight."

"I know."

D'Artagnan watched her ride off, wondering where she was going that would take her so long; perhaps she'd tell him later while they were on patrol. Feeling happier than he had all morning, he remembered the look he'd seen in her eyes that was giving him reason to hope; that, and the fact that she didn't hit him when he remarked about it.

Smiling at the thought, he let his eyes scan the street, looking for signs of his father and Aramis. At least while she was gone, he would be able to talk with his mentor; that is, if he could find a way to keep his father occupied so they could speak alone. Searching, his eyes stopped on a small group of young women across the street, all looking at him as they spoke amongst themselves. Thankfully Jacqueline hadn't noticed them, or had she? He wondered how his mother had withstood years of glances like that toward his father, as well as the flirtatiousness, but he never heard her complain about such things; she had never complained about anything having to do with his father. Even on her deathbed she had nothing but love and understanding for him, explaining to her son that he was a Musketeer long before she entered his life and his dedication to it was one of the things she loved most about him; but it was something he, the son, could never understand.

Reverting his thoughts back to the present, he started off in search of his elders, not giving the women a chance to cross the street and corner him about tomorrow. Knowing those two, he thought, they could be anywhere. He had no idea how true that was.

As the subjects of D'Artagnan's thoughts walked into the small, damp room they heard the door shut behind them, a key turning in the lock. After their eyes adjusted to the low light, each took a seat on the bench by the wall.

"Well, that didn't go well at all," the senior D'Artagnan sighed.

"It probably wasn't the best idea to name names to the guards."

"I think you're right. Who knew they'd react this way?"

"They do belong to the Cardinal, and apparently aren't any smarter than they used to be," Aramis replied, trying to make himself comfortable.

D'Artagnan laughed, "That's plain to see. I honestly didn't think they'd throw two old, retired Musketeers into the dungeon."

Aramis smiled. "It's comforting to know things haven't changed that much. Funny though, all we've done in the past and never ended up here and now we get arrested for something we took no part in."

"Yeah. This is not going to go over well with my son."

"I think he'll understand…I hope. So, now what do you suggest?"

"Well…I think I'm going to try for a little nap. Sooner or later either the Prince or Duval has got to hear about it and get us out."

"I hope it's sooner than later, would hate to miss out on little D's party tomorrow. And this dampness is going to be hard on the bones; I'm not as young as I used to be."

D'Artagnan leaned back against the cold wall, closing his eyes. "That makes two of us, old friend."


	10. On the Eve of a Great Day

**_What's in a Name?_**

_Chapter 10_

_On the Eve of a Great Day_

"Well, well, gentlemen," they heard, breaking them out of what sleep they actually found. "I couldn't believe the news when I heard the two of you were finally in a cell where you belong."

Without moving, D'Artagnan asked, "Did you leave a wake-up call, Aramis?"

"It wasn't me." Opening his eyes a bit, he looked up to see Cardinal Mazarin standing there, smirking. "I would have asked for someone much prettier."

D'Artagnan shifted his position on the bench, yawning, "Then maybe he'll go away and come back when he's better looking."

Mazarin stood watching the two, the hatred showing in his expression. "I see age hasn't changed your attempts at humor, or lack thereof."

"Give us a few minutes; I'm sure it will get better." Sitting upright, D'Artagnan ran his hand through his hair, attempting to wake up. "What do you want, Monseigneur?"

"The guards told me you know the whereabouts of a certain fugitive, Jacqueline Roget." He glanced at one man, then the other, trying to detect a reaction to the name. Noticing none, he continued, "Seeing that you were once servants of the King, I have no doubt that you will be more than happy to impart that information to me."

"Well, as we still consider ourselves to be servants of our King, we will be happy to give any information we have about anything to the King; and as you are certainly not him…"

"Ah, amusing, but the King is currently indisposed; and, since the crime was committed against my guard, I must insist that you tell me all you know about her. It could make your stay here much shorter."

"But you see, Your Eminence," D'Artagnan glared back at him, "that is the reason for our visit to the castle in the first place: to get an audience with the King, not you. So, if you would be so kind as to tell him we are here…"

"As I have already said, the King is indisposed."

"I don't think he'd be too busy to see us. And if he is, we will be happy to wait until he can."

Aramis had remained in his position on the bench letting his eyes travel from his friend to the one he long considered an enemy, studying him, as he listened to the exchange, content to let the younger Gascon do the talking. And as always, the Gascon was more than willing to rally to the occasion without his help.

"I want to know where she is," said Mazarin, the ire very clear in his voice. Dealing with the Musketeers always brought out his anger, but having to put up with these two made it much worse, bringing back years of hatred.

"Why is that? Can't find a date for the weekend?"

"You are trying my patience, D'Artagnan." Attempting to remain in control of his temper, Mazarin concentrated on his quest. "You know where she is, so why don't you just make it easy on all of us."

"Neither of us said anything to the guards about knowing where she is. We merely said ---"

"I know what you said; the guards have filled me in on everything ---"

"Good, then you know what I said about being arrested by a bunch of ---"

"Yes, I heard that too." Mazarin sighed. "I see this is getting us nowhere. Perhaps a night or two in here will make you more talkative."

"I think we were talking just fine, and we'll be much more talkative to the King. The help here has really gotten bad, when a Musketeer can't even get a simple message delivered to the King."

"Ex-Musketeer."

"Once a Musketeer, always a Musketeer."

"How noble. Good night, gentlemen," Mazarin said as he turned and walked out the door, telling the guard quietly to stay there and listen to anything the two might say.

As the door closed and the key turned in the lock again, Aramis looked to his friend. "He certainly takes up from where Richelieu left off, but with a totally different agenda." Smiling, he continued quietly, "And I had imagined retirement would be uneventful. I should have known better. What do you suggest now, a prison break?"

D'Artagnan pondered this for a moment. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea. In the old days there wouldn't have been a problem, but things aren't like they were then."

"There is a Cardinal controlling the King, a lady needing rescued, and injustices being done. It doesn't sound all that different." Aramis stopped for a minute, thinking, "But as you say, it might not be the best idea. Do you remember the events before the battle of La Rochelle?"

"How could I forget? But it all managed to work out then."

"As I'm sure it will all work out now; we'll just have to wait. He's bound to come looking for us, you know."

"I don't think he's very happy with us right now."

"But he is your son. And as they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

The elder D'Artagnan laughed at the thought. They both then fell into silence, wondering how long it would take for the son to be over being angry with them and actually come looking for them. Neither thought it would be for a while yet. They were both right and wrong.

"Have either of you seen my father or Aramis?" D'Artagnan had just walked into the lab, having spent at least a couple of hours searching town. Not having found any sign of his two elders, he was teetering on anger at them for disappearing or actually being worried that something could have happened to them.

Ramon stared at him in awe. "Aramis? THE Aramis? You mean he is here too? This is amazing! Having both of them here, together! At the same time!" Hardly being able to contain himself, his mind was already starting to think of a new rhapsody to mark the occasion.

"Do we get to meet him?" Siroc asked, showing his excitement as much as Ramon, as he stared at his friend.

"Well, you can -- if I can ever find them."

"You mean they are missing?" Ramon asked, concern growing in his expression, mirrored by Siroc's.

"I've looked all over town; no one has seen either of them since lunch." D'Artagnan sat down on the corner of Siroc's table, at a loss to what else he should do, if anything at all. He found himself wishing that Jacqueline hadn't left for parts unknown to him; she had a way of helping him think clearly.

"Could they have gone with Jacques? Did he not leave also?" Ramon asked, remembering the events of earlier.

"No, I know they didn't go with Jacques; besides, their horses are still here." Wondering if this could have anything to do with his getting angry at them when he'd spoken to them, he tried to remember what the two men had been saying at the Café. A small sense of panic washed over him; could it be that they were planning some type of surprise for him for tomorrow? If so, D'Artagnan wondered if he could beg Duval to keep him on duty or give him a mission instead.

"They may have gone to the Palace. Did you check there?" Siroc asked, trying to deduce where else the two legends could have gone on foot.

"Si, I bet the two of them have been entertaining the King all this time. He does love to hear the old stories, as do we all." Ramon's gestures were becoming animated again as his excitement grew.

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes at that but couldn't disagree with him. That probably was indeed where they had been all afternoon. He was beginning to feel that Aramis was purposely avoiding him; putting off the talk he had promised. Well, he thought, if that was where they were then far-be-it for him to interrupt them; at least he didn't have to sit and listen to the stories again.

"Are you going to go see if that is where they are?" Siroc asked, hoping that he and Ramon could accompany their friend to the Palace.

"No. I'm sure that's where they probably are. I guess I'll just have to wait until they get back."

"Where did Jacques go anyway?" Siroc wondered.

"I don't know, he didn't say, just that he'd be gone for a few hours." D'Artagnan had been wondering that all afternoon as well. Whatever the reason was, it had seemed important to her.

"I hope it is to see a girl, mi amigo. He is starting to worry me. And after hearing the two of you earlier…he needs someone to interest him," Ramon stated.

D'Artagnan smiled a little, knowing that that was not the case. Or was it? Not meeting up with a girl, but with another man? Could she have…..no, he thought. He would have gotten some indication from her if that was the case, he was sure. And last time she had had a love interest she would sneak off after dark. His smile faded into concern as he pondered this. But the circumstances then were different, much different. Once again he could feel panic rising within him. No, he told himself, he would not let the panic get to him; they had grown close as friends, he would know if she...

"You know, D'Artagnan," Siroc started, "about earlier. I just want to say…"

D'Artagnan looked up toward the lab window as he saw Jacqueline's head pass by it. "Jacques."

Hearing her name being called, she backed up a few steps and looked in the window she had just passed by, trying to keep hidden the items she carried.

"We were just talking about you," Siroc stated.

Jacqueline looked from one man to another curiously, wondering why they had been discussing her. Now what, she thought. But not having time to find out lest they see that she had her hands full, she quickly told them, "Not now," and hurried off to her quarters with her bundle.

"What's with him?" Siroc asked, his mind wondering why two of his friends had been acting so strangely lately. I must be missing something, he thought.

Grinning, Ramon added his thought on the matter, "Maybe his lady friend has given him a few…remembrances…to bring back with him that he does not want us to see."

Siroc raised his brows thinking, a small grin on his lips. It seemed a pretty good explanation, and would mean that his worry about Jacques was unfounded.

Only D'Artagnan stood speechless, still wondering what she had been up to. It was plain she was hiding something, but what. This whole day had been odd, he thought. His father and Aramis just disappearing, Jacqueline leaving and coming back with something she didn't want anyone to see, and all on the eve of his birthday. This did not bode well for him, he thought. And all he really wanted for his birthday was a quiet day alone with the woman he loved, and to hear a simple yes from her. He sighed and decided to go find out what she was up to.

As he walked out of the lab, leaving behind Ramon and Siroc's chuckles and guesses as to what the 'lady friend' had sent home with 'their boy', Jacqueline was busy in her quarters with her quest.

"How am I supposed to wrap this up? My father never had trouble doing it." Jacqueline sat on the edge of her bed, struggling with the large piece of fabric her father had always used, laying it out on top of the bed. It had been years since her father had even shown it to her and Gerard and she couldn't remember how he'd done it. No matter how she tried to wrap it up, it was obvious what it was; some surprise that would be.

Hearing a knock on the door, she quickly jumped up and grabbed a coverlet and threw it over everything on the bed, just as D'Artagnan opened the door and popped his head in.

"Hey Jacques, are you busy?" he said, taking note of her sudden movement. Curiously he walked in and closed the door behind him. "What are you doing?"

Trying to act casually, she replied, "Nothing."

"Then what's that?" he asked, nodding toward the bed.

Looking behind her, afraid she hadn't gotten it all covered, she said, "Umm, a bed?"

"Come on, Jacqueline, I saw you hiding something in it. What's going on?"

"I told you, nothing. Have you ever heard of the word privacy?"

"Yes, but..."

"D'Artagnan, what is it that you want?"

"Well, I..." he started, then noticing a black book sitting on her desk, he asked, "What's this?" as he walked over and picked it up, looking at the plain cover.

"My old diary."

"Oh? Can I read it?" he asked, glancing at her with obvious curiosity as he started to open the cover.

Hurrying over to him, she grabbed the book from his hands. "No!"

"Why not? Got thoughts of old boyfriends in there?"

"Never you mind what I have in here," she told him sarcastically.

Looking at her with the innocence of a child, he replied, "I'd let you read mine, if I had one."

"I can already see what that would say."

"You might be surprised."

"I doubt that."

"If I promise to start one tonight, can I read yours?"

Looking at him as though he'd lost his mind, she replied, "No."

"I'd let you read it tomorrow."

"No, D'Artagnan." He's as bad as a child, she thought.

He walked closer to her and lowered his voice a little. "How am I supposed to learn those deep, dark secrets then?"

She turned around to set the book on a shelf. "You are incorrigible."

"But you love me anyways."

Jacqueline thought for a moment, then turned back around to face him. Looking him in the eye, a twinkle in hers, she said, "Tell you what, D'Artagnan. I'll let you read my diary as soon as you tell me your name."

He returned her stare, grinning, and replied, "Then you better hurry up and marry me; I'm dying to read that diary."


	11. Complications

_**What's in a Name?**_

_Chapter 11_

_Complications_

"What ARE the two of you babbling about now?" Anne asked her two attendants as she checked her hair for the fifth time in the mirror. From that mirror she could see them give each other a nervous look. As she continued watching them, she addressed them again, "Come, come, now ladies. You have been whispering about something ever since you first came in here. Now, what is it?"

"Well, Madame," Isabelle started but hesitated.

"Well what? Must I ask you again to tell me what the chatter is about," asked Anne, with a note of irritation starting to show in her voice.

"It is a rumor, Your Majesty," replied Elise, with lowered eyes.

"It's not really a rumor though," added Isabelle. "It's something we've heard, but are not sure whether to mention it."

"I have asked you twice already, so yes, you must mention it." Anne was now turned away from her reflection and staring at the two young women who have been serving her for just over two years.

Looking at her companion again, Elise continued, "Well, you see, my sister is being courted by a man who works in the mercantile, who has a sister that is friends with a --"

"Yes, yes. Get on with it, please. The day is waning away."

"Yes ma'am. Well…it is about your favorites, Madame."

The Queen looked as if she were being handed some sort of riddle she was to decipher. Confused, she asked, "My favorite what? Are you purposely trying to befuddle me so late in the day?"

"It's about your favorite Musketeers, Your Majesty," Elise replied quickly.

Turning back toward the mirror, unconcerned about the conversation at hearing this, as the Musketeers were Louis' servants, Anne replied, "I have no favorite Musketeers. They are not my concern."

Elise continued on as Isabelle nodded her consent, "But it's not the young Musketeers, Madame. It's the two older ones; the ones that had just arrived in town today. D'Artagnan and…who was the other one," she inquired from the other girl.

Anne turned back around in a hurry. "D'Artagnan and Aramis?" Trying to hide the concern that was starting to grow within her, she asked them both, "What about them?"

"It has been told down the line from someone that is friends with a guard that the two Musketeers are in the dungeon."

"In the dungeon? That can't be," glared Anne as she tried to make sense of this. "Why on earth would they be in the dungeon?"

Isabelle looked to Elise before continuing, "Well, that is where the rumor comes in."

"No one knows for sure," added Elise. "The guards are being very quiet about it. There are a few stories going around, but no one knows what the truth is."

The two girls were fascinated by the look that had appeared in the Queen's eyes: a look of concern turning quickly into rage. It had been a long time since they'd seen her worked up over anything that happened in the palace.

Anne was returning their stare but not really seeing them. Suddenly visions came to her of the two men she knew so well being held as prisoners; the two men she trusted most in all of France. How dare they arrest those dear men, she thought. Gaining her composure as best she could, even though she felt as though every inch of her was seething with rage, she started for the door. "We shall see about that!" she exclaimed as she stormed out of her bed chamber towards the rooms of the young future King.

Continuing to match his gaze, Jacqueline was not going to give up this time; she was getting closer to the answer to her query, she was sure of it. "All you have to do is tell me and the book is yours to read."

"All you have to do is say a simple yes and I will tell you," D'Artagnan replied to this, feeling he was getting closer to his quest. All thoughts of the diary had slipped his mind; he could only think of the woman standing in front of him.

"I know what you're hoping to read in here," she started, holding the diary in front of her. "But I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed."

"I don't think so. I think I'd learn a lot from it."

"Like what it's like to be a poor farmer's daughter? If you're that curious about it, you could borrow a dress and wig; I'm sure we could find a poor farmer that could use some help for a while. You might want to shave a lot more though, unless we find one that's nearly blind. But," she continued, "you could save yourself a lot of work by just telling me."

"Jacqueline…"

"No, that's my name. You're supposed to tell me yours. You know…something, something D'Artagnan."

"Not without a yes."

"I could always ask your father tomorrow, you know."

"Ahh, tomorrow. I have yet to figure a way out of that."

"Why? It sounds to be a lot of fun."

"Right. Just how I want to spend my birthday, being roasted and toasted by my father."

"It sounds like most of Paris will be there. I'm sure there will be a lot of available women too, each bringing you a gift," Jacqueline replied, already imagining him surrounded by young, beautiful women, most of whom probably already knew him inside and out. She, too, was starting to wonder if the party was such a good idea after all.

"That reminds me, what's under the covers," D'Artagnan asked as he remembered seeing her hiding something on the bed.

As he took a step toward the bed, Jacqueline cried out, "D'Artagnan, don't!"

Hearing the pleading in her voice, he stopped and turned to look back at her. It wasn't hard for him to understand that it must be a gift she had gotten him for his birthday. So, she cared enough to get him a something; that was a good sign. As he stood looking at her, it no longer seemed as fun for him to keep this secret from her; after all, he was trying to win her trust. He took a step closer to her, holding her gaze, and opened his mouth to speak...

"D'Artagnan!" The sound of the deep, commanding voice echoed down the hallway. Not now, thought D'Artagnan.

"D'Artagnan!"

Footsteps were heard as someone descended the stairs into the darkened chamber lit only by torches. The guard on duty got up from his small desk to see who had just entered his domain as a man dressed in a Musketeer uniform rounded the corner. Without a word being said, the guard knew why the young man was there.

"Do you have orders to be here," the guard asked, already knowing that the Musketeer wouldn't be there without one.

The young D'Artagnan nearly threw the orders to the guard. "Where are they?"

"Over here," the guard replied as he started walking to one of the cell doors.

D'Artagnan followed the guard to the door. When he saw the key being produced to open the cell door, he held out his hand to stop the guard. Reaching up with his other hand, D'Artagnan opened the small window on the door and peered inside. As his eyes adjusted to the even dimmer light inside the cell, he saw two figures sitting on a bench on the far side of the small room.

Breaking the silence within the chamber, his voice echoed through the opening in the door, "This is a sight I never thought I'd see." He found he couldn't suppress the small smile that came to his lips.

"Finally!" the elder D'Artagnan exclaimed as the two older gentlemen got up from the bench and crossed the distance to the door. "We knew you'd come sooner or later, son. Did you get the orders to get us out?"

"Yes," the younger man replied simply. He was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Well then," started the older gentleman as a feeling of relief washed over him, "hurry up and open the door, we could use some fresh air. They really could stand to clean these cells once in a while."

The younger D'Artagnan didn't move. He just stood there staring at his father.

A grin came to the lips of Aramis as he watched the exchange. It had been years since he had witnessed a battle of wills between the two D'Artagnan men. He had nearly forgotten how entertaining it could be.

"Why aren't you opening the door?"

"I will."

"Well then, open it!"

"In a minute."

A small burst of laughter escaped from Aramis as he listened. He quickly looked away as his friend threw a glance his way.

"Ok, son, you've had your fun, now open the door."

"Not yet. I want to savor this moment."

"Good Lord!" the older D'Artagnan exclaimed as he threw his hands up in the air. "What would Duval say if he saw you acting like this?"

"I don't think the Captain would say anything."

"You do know this is insubordination! You were given an order to release us."

"And I shall. The order didn't say I had to release you the moment I got here."

The father returned the stare of the son. "Alright! Have your fun; what's a few more minutes in this place," he answered as he turned and walked back to the bench and sat down. "After all, I'm only your father. Just let me know when you're ready to let us out."

The older D'Artagnan sat watching as Aramis took his place at the little window. He could tell the two were talking but couldn't hear what was being said.

If they're going to have a chit-chat, they could at least wait until we're outside, he thought.

After a few minutes, he saw his son look back toward the guard, and then heard the key in the lock. Slowly the cell door opened, offering the two men their freedom.

When the three men finally stepped out into the fresh air, the younger D'Artagnan turned to his father and mentor, "Now, will the two of you explain to me how you managed to get yourselves arrested, and why I'm to give you this order to go speak with the Queen?"

"Well," began Aramis, "we're on a bit of a mission."

"What sort of mission? And why would it get you arrested," the younger asked, looking curiously from one man to the other.

The two older men looked at each other. "It has to do with my present to you," Aramis answered.

"You mean you stole something from the palace for my birthday?"

"No," Aramis answered with a grin. "It's something to go with the gift I brought you. Or I hope it will. But I'm not going to tell you about it tonight; you'll have to wait until tomorrow."

The older D'Artagnan chimed in, "And now, we best get back to the palace. We can't keep Her Majesty waiting. Let's just make sure we have that order so we don't end up arrested again."

The young Musketeer watched as the other two walked away from him. He couldn't help but wonder what they could possibly be hiding from him; something for his birthday. Or perhaps, he thought, that could have been a ruse. But he didn't think long on it as the thought of his birthday brought back the memory of his talk with Jacqueline. He hurried back to the garrison, hoping that he would reach it before she left on patrol; if not, he wouldn't get to speak with her again until tomorrow.


	12. D'Artagnan's Great Day

_**What's in a Name?**_

_Chapter 12_

_D'Artagnan's Great Day_

"Jacques are you up," D'Artagnan asked as he rapped on her door. "Jacques?"

There was a small rumble emanated from the other side of the door shortly before he heard the lock turn and the door opened a few inches. Jacqueline's face appeared in it, minus the small amount of facial hair one usually saw on her chin. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Did I wake you," he asked with the innocence of a child.

"I had patrol last night D'Artagnan," she said with a small yawn. "What time is it?"

"About 5:30."

Jacqueline let out a small groan. "Why are you up so early?"

"I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd treat you to….never mind. Go back to sleep. I shouldn't have woken you."

"D'Artagnan," she said as she saw him turn and leave her view like a defeated puppy. She softly groaned again as she shut her door, locked it, and flopped back down on her bed. Why would he wake her so early in the morning after a night on patrol, she wondered. And why is it that she can't get back to sleep now?

"Ahh, Happy Birthday mi amigo," D'Artagnan heard as he entered the dining area of the garrison. Ramon was just finishing his breakfast of sausages and eggs as his friend walked in. "Another year older and so many women yet to be conquered. I have heard that several of the eligible young Paris maidens will be at this party of yours today. Para estar en sus zapatos To be in your shoes!"

"It does sound like it's going to be quite a party," Siroc added, taking a break from his food. "The Captain cancelled patrols today so everyone could make it."

"Wonderful," D'Artagnan answered sarcastically as he sat down at the table, causing both of his companions to look at him curiously.

"I remember this day last year," Ramon began again, "It was quite a day of celebration."

"Yeah," interrupted Siroc with a smile, "You didn't return for two days."

"Si," exclaimed Ramon with a laugh, "and you were not worthy of duty for another two days after that."

Both Siroc and Ramon laughed at the memory while D'Artagnan remained unmoved, only planting a half-smile on his face, wishing more than ever that he could find a way out of it. He could not afford a replay of that day, not with Jacqueline in his life.

"Listen, why don't the two of you take my place today? You are welcome to all the young women you want, with my blessing."

His companions stopped laughing and stared long and hard at him. Suddenly Ramon said, "You know, you have changed mi amigo."

"Changed," D'Artagnan repeated, wondering if he'd said too much, "I haven't changed."

"Si, you have. You got some girl I do not know about?"

D'Artagnan broke into a nervous smile.

"D'Artagnan have a girl and not tell us," Siroc asked, watching him.

"Si, he might keep something like this from us; though I'd be offended."

"Yes. And surprised."

Ramon looked at D'Artagnan, "So, what is it, a girl or just some strange D'Artagnan thing?"

"Come on Ramon, Siroc. If I had someone, you know I'd…"

"Ah, perhaps he is smitten with someone that does not share his feelings," Ramon replied to Siroc, ignoring D'Artagnan's remark.

"Hmm," answered Siroc, raising his brows in thought. "Could there actually be a woman in Paris that doesn't fall for the D'Artagnan charms?"

"Si, I bet that is it. D'Artagnan has lost his heart to a woman that does not share hers with him."

D'Artagnan listened in shock.

"That does make sense," Siroc continued, "He never goes out anymore; never talks to the ladies like he used to."

"You know, I am sitting right here."

Ramon looked at him, then back to Siroc, gesturing, "And he never joins in on our conversations about the ladies like he used to. And he is always too willing to give up the affections of a lady to his comrades."

"Would you rather I didn't?"

"Not at all like the D'Artagnan we know," Siroc said, staring at his friend as if studying him.

"I am not…"

"But who could this young lady be," asked Ramon, trying to think of any new faces he'd seen in town lately.

Siroc continued to study D'Artagnan, "Yes. Who could it be? You know Ramon, if we could find her, perhaps we could find out her secret."

"Si, and then we could spread that around so the rest of us would have a chance en el amor. You know Siroc, maybe we should ask Jacques."

"That's an idea. They do seem inseparable."

"You can't…ask Jacques. He's still sleeping," D'Artagnan nervously stated, not knowing what else to say to that.

"Then we'll ask him when he gets up," replied Siroc calmly, going back to his eating.

"Come on! You two know me. I wouldn't keep something like this from you," D'Artagnan said, trying to sound calm and ease their minds.

"Then we will see at the party," stated Ramon. "If what you say is true, we will see."

D'Artagnan groaned to himself. He was stuck. If he plays up to the women at the party, then Jacqueline would never believe his feelings for her; and if he acted uninterested in them, then his friends would know he was hiding feelings for someone. Why did things have to be so complicated, he wondered. And why did his father have to pick this year to become—fatherly?

"Well," stated D'Artagnan as he stood up, "while you two ponder my love life, I think I'll go see if Aramis is up."

After D'Artagnan took his leave, Ramon looked to Siroc and said, "He's got someone."

"Yep," replied Siroc. "He certainly does."

"D, what brings you here this early," Aramis asked as he answered the door of his hotel room, already knowing what the reason may be.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, no. Your father and I were just discussing some matters. Come in."

"I hate to interrupt," he replied, stepping in, not really wanting to discuss what was on his mind in front of his father.

"Ahh son, Happy Birthday to you," exclaimed the elder D'Artagnan.

"Hello Father," replied the son, returning the hug offered. "You're sure I'm not interrupting something?"

"No, not at all. Are you ready for the festivities later?"

"Actually….I would like you to cancel the party."

"What? Cancel the party," exclaimed his father. "We can't cancel the party. Everything's all set already. The word is out; it's too late to cancel it." The senior D'Artagnan looked hard at his son, "Why would you want it cancelled? Since when have you not enjoyed a good celebration?"

"I've kind of outgrown the big party thing."

"Nonsense! A D'Artagnan never outgrows the fun of an entertaining gala."

"Well this D'Artagnan has!" The younger D'Artagnan looked pointedly at his father, the full determination set in his eyes. He was trying hard not to get into an argument.

His father returned the gaze. It had been hard for him to realize that his only son was a grown man, but at this moment it was very apparent that not only had his son grown up, but that he had become his own man, apart from his father's ambitions in life. That began to be clear when the elder D'Artagnan had last come to town and was facing his son with a sword in his hand. Never again would the son be the little boy that the father could dote on and aspire to be a replica of him. The now grown man had started his own course toward the future, just as his late wife had predicted.

The senior D'Artagnan turned his gaze to Aramis, at a loss for words, giving Aramis the cue to take over the conversation.

"He's right D. The party can't be cancelled this late. There were some gifts dropped off at the Café last night, and the food and preparations have probably begun already this morning," Aramis told him.

D'Artagnan turned his gaze to Aramis. Wonderful, he thought, my greatest dream is going to be ruined at this party and you're telling me there's no way out of it.

Aramis, as though reading his thoughts, motioned toward the next room. "I think we need a little talk," he said.

Finally, thought D'Artagnan as he followed him into the room.

After Aramis closed the door, he turned to D'Artagnan, "You look like someone about to face the guillotine." He smiled at D'Artagnan's reaction, "Will you relax?"

"You don't understand."

"I think I understand more than you know," Aramis replied, walking across the small room to a table. "I can't solve your problem for you; sometimes you have to trust fate. If things are meant to be, they will be."

D'Artagnan looked at him, "This is all the advice you can give me? I really thought you of all people could help me with this."

"Love has a mind of its own. You can't force it anymore than you can just throw it away once it has its hold on you. I've met this girl of yours; I think she trusts you more than she trusts anyone else."

"That's because I've guarded her secret."

"No, it's more than that. It's a deep respect one holds for very few people in their lives; ones they love, be it a father, a brother, a lover. Love doesn't come easily."

"You can say that again," D'Artagnan sighed.

Again Aramis smiled at his reaction. "Would you want her to be easy to win over?"

"No."

"Well then."

"I just…"

"You just what?"

"I just wish she would give me some sign."

"Perhaps she already has, in small ways. Do you remember what I said in that letter I sent you?"

D'Artagnan looked at him.

"A woman doesn't give her love easily, not true love. She's not going to say anything that could make her vulnerable if that love isn't returned, no matter how much she wants it. You told me that this girl has been through a lot in her life. Be her friend, her confidant. The rest will follow; don't try to force it. Things will work out, in their time."

"But I've already tried to let her know how I feel."

"Have you? And what was her reaction?"

"She doesn't believe me. She thinks I'm flippant."

Aramis laughed. "You are a D'Artagnan, my boy, with a reputation to rival your father's. I may not live in Paris, but that doesn't mean I don't hear things."

"Great."

"Then prove her wrong."

"Just like that?"

Aramis put his arm across D'Artagnan's shoulders as they walked back to the door. "Just like that."

Ramon looked at Siroc and they both smiled. The party was going wonderfully; more food had been prepared than could ever be eaten, the Café was crowded with Musketeers and townsmen, and there seemed to be enough young maidens to keep everyone happy. Even the guest of honor had finally relaxed and was enjoying himself, although he was never without his comrades long enough for them to tell if he seemed attracted to any one girl in particular. But it was still early.

The crowd had been overwhelmed by the festivities, enough to rival a ball at the palace but much more fun. Ramon had rhapsodized, there were exhibitions of juggling and exotic dancers, and the senior D'Artagnan was in form relating a few of his stories which even his son didn't mind hearing once again.

On the counter of the Café stood a large cake beautifully decorated with the image of a rapier across the top of it, although to see it at this point it was hard to tell what it was. There couldn't have been anyone in the establishment that hadn't tasted it yet. It had been brilliantly lit by a horde of candles, marking each year of the young man's life, which made for many jokes from his fellow Musketeers about how old he had just turned. His only wish upon blowing them all out, wished under his breath, was to be allowed time alone on this day with a specific young maiden, with her dark hair falling down on her shoulders and wearing a dress instead of pants. But he was satisfied at this point with her by his side at the party, even though she looked like his comrade instead of his girl.

The gifts for the youngest of the D'Artagnan clan had all been laid out on a table; most of them being from his fellow Musketeers as well as from the young maidens wishing to win the favor of the dashing birthday boy. Ramon took hold of one of his arms while Siroc maneuvered to his other side to drag the young man to the table; everyone was getting excited to see what spoils he had gotten on his day. Laughing along with his friends, he started opening them, one by one, while everyone in the establishment watched.

Partway through the gifts, hearing the giggles of the women and hearty laughs of his comrades as each package was opened, D'Artagnan noticed the absence of a particular voice. Looking around the Café, he asked, "Where'd Jacques go?"

"Um," Ramon started, looking around as well, "he was here a minute ago. He would not have gone too far, unless," he glanced at D'Artagnan with a smile, "he decided to do a little private celebrating of his own with one of the ladies."

"He did seem to have the attention of a particular Mademoiselle Turvois," Siroc added with a grin.

"Si, he did; and her attentions can be quite—overwhelming," Ramon laughed. "I am sure he will be back—about nightfall."

Ramon and Siroc laughed at that vision while D'Artagnan tried to act amused and unconcerned, all the while nervously wondering why Jacqueline had left his party; had left him. Feigning the need for a drink, he walked over to the bar to order another coffee and stood next to Aramis, who had been enjoying the festivities along with everyone else.

"She left," he said quietly to Aramis. "Now what?"

"Relax."

"Maybe I said something or did something she didn't like."

Aramis laughed. "Will you relax? You're worse than your father was when he was courting your mother. I'm sure she'll be back. She may have forgotten her gift or something and had to run back for it."

"Hey D'Artagnan," Ramon yelled over the chatter of everyone, "There are more presents to open and much more celebrating to be had, mi amigo!"

"I hope you're right, Aramis," D'Artagnan said as he headed back to the others.

"Here," Ramon said, handing D'Artagnan a small package. "This is from Siroc."

D'Artagnan unwrapped it and stood staring at a pair of odd-looking eyeglasses. "I hate to tell you this Siroc, but I don't wear spectacles."

"These are not for correcting vision. See? I have tinted the glass. They are for use out-of-doors in bright sunlight."

D'Artagnan put the spectacles on and looked around. Hearing the laughter of his friends but hardly being able to see them, he replied, "They're a bit dark."

"Well, they are for outdoors. And I haven't quite got the tinting down right. If I tint them lighter, the coating tends to wash off."

"Ah," D'Artagnan said, taking them off and laying them on the table. "Let me know when you've gotten it perfected."

"Of course," Siroc answered, a little embarrassed by the laughter aimed at his latest invention. Turning his attention back to the unopened gifts on the table, Siroc slid the next one over in front of D'Artagnan. "There's no name on this one."

D'Artagnan took it and looked it over. The long gift was wrapped plainly in a grayish cloth and tied closed with a thin leather strap; and true to what Siroc had said, it carried no tag with a name. "Well, someone wishes not to be recognized," he said, looking around.

Slowly he unrolled it. There was a thumping sound as the metal hit the wooden table and a quiet ensued throughout everyone watching. D'Artagnan looked at it in amazement, and then to his father who looked back at him as if to say 'it wasn't me'. There on the table in front of him lay a rapier in a well-worn leather sheath. What caught his eye was the hilt of the sword, unlike any he had seen before. It was plain to see that this sword had been well taken care of, as the metal of the hilt glistened of silver and gold.

D'Artagnan picked it up and looked at it in awe. The silver colored handle in his hand was intricately laid out with four bands of gold along it. As he unsheathed it, the blade caught the light and reflected it brilliantly even though it showed small nicks along the edge from past usage. Staring at it, he couldn't believe this gift; this must have cost someone quite a sum and yet it had been just given to him. But from whom, and why would they wish to remain unacknowledged?

His companions were looking at it with astonishment plain on their faces. They too were wondering who would give such a magnificent gift to their friend. Perhaps it was from Aramis or the Captain or some relative of D'Artagnan's that they had never met.

As the young D'Artagnan continued to admire the sword, he heard a soft voice in his ear, "I know it's not much. It was my father's. I hope it's acceptable." At hearing this, he turned around to see Jacqueline standing there; her hair not falling to her shoulders but caught back in a snood and wearing a pale blue peasant dress, understated by the fashion worn by the other women in the Café, but to D'Artagnan, it was as fine as any made of silk.

"It's beautiful, as are you," he told her, unable to take his eyes off her and fighting the urge to take her in his arms. Once again he was astonished to see her there as he had dreamed her to be and that she would take a chance like this when the Café was full of Musketeers. He handed the rapier to Ramon as he took her arm and led her to a corner to talk as the chatter began again from the other guests.

"I wondered where you went. I was afraid you weren't coming back."

"And miss out on all the fun? Did I miss anything?"

"Not really, just opening gifts." He looked into her shining eyes, the words of Aramis ringing in his ears, 'Be her friend, her confidant, the rest will come'. "Thank you for the rapier, Jacqueline. It's beautiful. But if was your father's, you should keep it. It should be kept in your family."

"I wanted you to have it. For all you've done for me. I wouldn't be here now if you hadn't helped me and kept my secret. It should be owned by someone that deserves it."

D'Artagnan smiled at her, not the smile of her hero but the smile of someone in love. "I can't believe you'd take the chance being here as yourself just for my birthday."

"Well, that and because I got tired of that Turvois girl hanging on me. It's nauseating."

D'Artagnan laughed and felt all the tension and aggravation of the entire day slipping away from him. He felt content just having her here as herself, even though he knew it would be only for a short time.

Having observed the two going to the corner to talk, Siroc looked at Ramon, who was grinning broadly.

"You know what this means," Siroc asked Ramon.

"I think we should put it to the test," Ramon replied.

Looking curiously at his friend, Siroc asked, "What do you have in mind?"

With that Ramon started toward the couple, with Siroc on his heels.

Ramon took D'Artagnan's arm. "D'Artagnan, mi buen amigo, where have you been hiding this lovely lady? Hola, I am Ramon Montalvo Francisco de la Cruz," he said with a bow. "And this is my compadre Siroc."

"How do you do," Jacqueline replied to both with a smile.

Ramon continued quickly, "You do not mind if I borrow the birthday boy. There are many yet wishing to speak with him." With that, Ramon pulled D'Artagnan away from the corner and to a group of Musketeers and women talking.

Siroc looked at Jacqueline. "Well, seeing as how your friend has been whisked away, would you care to join me for some coffee over there?"

"Well, I really…" Jacqueline started as Siroc drug her to the other side of the room.

Time seemed to fly for the party-goers as Ramon and Siroc did their duty to keep D'Artagnan and Jacqueline apart. The two were having fun noting how many times they witnessed the other two sneaking glances off to each other.

After about ten minutes of watching it all, Aramis found his way over to Siroc and Jacqueline. "Enjoying yourself," he asked her.

"Very much so."

Aramis looked over at D'Artagnan. "It appears he's getting everything he wished for."

"And then some," Jacqueline replied, looking at all the young women standing around D'Artagnan as he finished opening gifts.

"Well, I know he would much rather be sitting here talking to you."

Jacqueline glanced back at D'Artagnan, then at Aramis. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What's D'Artagnan's name?"

"Young D?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I have, more than once. But he won't tell me what it is. I'm wondering if it's something really odd."

Aramis laughed. "Well, you know how it is with traditional names and the younger generation. They just hate their names." Aramis looked over toward bar. "Just do like my late wife used to do."

"And what was that?"

Aramis looked at her and grinned. "Keep asking until he gets tired of hearing it and tells you. Now if you will excuse me, it looks like I'm being summoned." And he took his leave.

Jacqueline sighed. Why won't anyone just tell her? What was the big secret about it? Hmm, keep asking him; but why? It's like beating a dead horse, she thought. Perhaps once more, if I can drag him away from his little circle of admirers. She got up and walked toward the group D'Artagnan was intermingled in, forgetting all about Siroc sitting there.

Seeing her leaving the table, D'Artagnan wound his way out of the group standing around him. When he reached her, he said, "Thank goodness. I was beginning to think I'd never get away from them."

"I bet," Jacqueline replied, looking at the young ladies that looked sad to see him leave them.

"Jacqueline," he started as he pulled her back into their little corner, the only place they could find any privacy. "Every time I tried to leave Ramon would…."

"D'Artagnan," Jacqueline started.

"I'm not interested in any of those young women, if that's what you're thinking."

Jacqueline shook her head, "No. I want to…will you please just tell me…"

The next thing Jacqueline knew he had her by her arms and his lips were on hers. The bad thing about it, she thought, was that she found herself kissing him back. Suddenly she felt her senses coming back to her. "D'Artagnan," she exclaimed as quietly as she could, struggling against his hold. "Will you let go of me?"

"Will you hold still?"

"Let go of me. If you want to kiss someone, there are plenty of women over there that would…"

"Jacqueline, there's a guard at the door," he started, still holding on to her so her back remained to the door. "I don't want him to see you."

"Right. Just because it's your birthday, you think you can just…"

"Alright," D'Artagnan said, as he let go and held his hands up. "You're free."

"Thank you D'Artagnan," she replied and turned to walk away from her feelings as much as from him. As soon as she was facing the opposite direction her eyes immediately went to the door to prove him wrong. Instantly she turned back to him, "There's a guard at the door!"

"I tried to tell you."

"I know! But what do I do now," she asked, panic in her voice.

"We could try the kissing thing again."

"Be serious D'Artagnan. What if he comes in here?"

"Calm down. The Café is full of Musketeers; he's not going to come in."

"But what if he does?"

"Then we'll find a way to get you back to the garrison. In the meantime, try to calm down. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

She felt the warmth of his hand on her arm again, only this time it wasn't holding her but comforting her and she felt as though it were giving her strength. She was still afraid, more afraid than she'd been in a long time, but it helped her calm down being reassured that he was there to help her if she needed him.

"Thank you D'Artagnan."

When she looked at him and found him gazing back at her, she felt as though something inside her was starting to melt away. The memory of his kiss flitted quickly across her mind, but it left a lasting feeling inside her that she didn't feel when it happened, and wasn't quite sure what to think of it.

"The guard's gone now," D'Artagnan softly told her, not taking his eyes off her. "Should we rejoin the party? It looks like Ramon is getting ready to rhapsodize again."

"I really should go back to the garrison and change."

"Just wait long enough to hear him, he is our friend. Then I'll take you back."

Jacqueline followed him back to rest, staying near the bar where the senior D'Artagnan and Aramis were standing talking.

Ramon was standing on the table, gaining the attention of the crowd to begin his tribute to his friend.

"Today we honor one born long ago

A son, the only one, to one of France's heroes

He grew up strong, fast and bold

The steel of sword not to grow cold

A rapier in one hand, a woman at the other

A name for himself, her virtues to honor

A Musketeer his only dream

His duty is sworn to both King and Queen

He fights against evil with friends by his side

The order of the Captain he must abide

When duty is over and fun will begin

A coffee to drink, a kiss he will win

And when all is said and done and my rhapsody ends

His heart will be won, a new day begins.

To you, my friend, a wish I will say

For fortune, happiness, love, on this your great day."

The rhapsody ended to a round of applause and cheers going up to D'Artagnan, who was enjoying it and laughing along with everyone else. He had listened to the words and was surprised to realize at the end of the ode how much his two comrades actually knew him. With this and the conversation he'd had with them at breakfast, D'Artagnan decided that he must not have been as careful with his actions as he had thought. But that was alright, he decided. After all, they were his closest friends, as was Jacqueline.

D'Artagnan turned to the bar, looking for her but again, she had disappeared. Walking over to the counter, he stood beside his mentor.

"Your father walked her back," Aramis told him.

"It was nice having her here, even though she shouldn't have taken the chance."

"I want to give you this," Aramis said as he handed the young D'Artagnan a note sealed with the royal seal. "It's from your father and me as an addition to the other gifts, but I think you'll like it much better."

D'Artagnan stared at the letter in his hand as he listened to Aramis relate the contents of it. After he'd finished, Aramis gave his greatest advice to the man that he had looked to as a son, "Go talk to her."

"Jacques are you there," he asked as he softly rapped on her door. The door opened and once again he was facing his comrade. "May I come in?"

"Of course," she replied, allowing him to enter and closing the door after him.

"I wanted to make sure that you're alright and to give you this," he told her as he handed her the letter.

Taking the letter, she looked it over, a look of almost shock in her eyes as she noticed the seal. "What is it?"

"It's a gift from my father and Aramis," he replied. "They definitely have their faults, but I have to admit that they are two of the best men I've ever known. Open it."

Nervously she broke the seal and opened the parchment. As she read it through, disbelief overcoming the shock, D'Artagnan explained the contents as Aramis had reported them to him.

"This is not a pardon from the King, although they did try for that, but it is an invitation signed by Louis himself in the presence of the Queen allowing you free passage into and out of the palace to state your case to them, as yourself. As long as you hold this order, the guards can't do anything. And I promise I'll go with you, as well as my father and Aramis."

"But, how did they--how did they know?"

D'Artagnan looked guiltily at her. "Would you believe a little bird told them?"

Jacqueline laughed. "Hardly."

Once again D'Artagnan heard the words of his mentor, 'Be her friend, her confidant, the rest will come'. This thought kept him from taking her into his arms, which he knew she wasn't ready for. But he could wait; this was enough for now.

"I'll have to be sure and thank them when I see them again." Jacqueline looked at the man who was melting away her defenses. "And thank you D'Artagnan."

Their eyes met and held. Then D'Artagnan, afraid of not being able to control all that he was feeling, put a hand on her shoulder and leaned his face next to hers. Softly he spoke into her ear, "I was named after the four of them: Athos, my father, Porthos and Aramis. Armand Charles Isaac Henri D'Artagnan." He then pulled back and looked at her again. With that, he turned and walked back out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Jacqueline watched the door close and stared at it for what seemed an eternity; she could hardly believe all that had just happened. Everything inside her seemed to be suddenly racing; the feelings she had kept closed up deep down inside her were breaking free, filling her as she stood there. She knew from that moment that she would never be alone again; her life would always be shared with the man that had kept her secret safe and now had shared his with her.


End file.
